Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
MAKENZIE
O n the way to Day their expressions filled with empathy. They understood all too well the vulnerability that came with sharing such intimate desires with a partner, since they were both in DDLG relationships themselves.
“You deserve to be with someone who accepts you for who you are, Makenzie,” Trinity said firmly. “Someone who cherishes you and respects your needs and desires. It is hard to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone if you can’t share your true self with that person.”
Delilah nodded in agreement. “The best piece of advice I can give you is to be open and honest with Irish. He’s a good man, and if he’s the right person for you, he'll understand. He'll listen and support you, just like we are.”
“I’ve known Irish for a decade now,” Kylie said. “He’s protective and caring. He might be strict, but he won’t ever cross a line he can’t come back from. You told me about the last relationship you were in, and I stick to my opinion, he wasn’t a Daddy at all. He was nothing but an imposter. Irish is his authentic self, always. You will never wonder what you have with him.”
Makenzie took comfort in her new friends' words, a sense of courage blossoming within her chest. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a leap of faith and allow Irish to lead her into a relationship he clearly wanted. Her phone buzzed again, and Makenzie hesitantly flipped it over.
Irish: Sorry for sending you away. Going to close the shop. Meet me at home?
Makenzie: I understand. See you soon.
Makenzie felt a sense of apprehension as she drove back to Irish’s house. Would he be upset with her? Would things be awkward? Why couldn’t he have found the deceit himself? She thought about the upcoming week. She had exactly one week left in Grand Ridge before she had to make some big decisions. Resigning from her previous job had been easy; she couldn’t return to the office where she’d see her ex-fiancé, Eugene every day. But there wasn’t a lot left for her on the East Coast. Sure, her parents lived there, but her last conversation with her mother left her hanging up and sobbing into her pillow. Ma was beyond disappointed in Makenzie for leaving Eugene at the altar. She scolded her up one side and down the other and told her it was her duty to call Eugene and talk with him. Her mother was hopeful that Makenzie would make up with him and resume the life she’d planned for Makenzie.
No, she couldn’t imagine returning home right now. Her own house, her once sanctuary, she’d sold and moved her belongings into storage. They’d planned on moving in together after the wedding. Her bank account was flush, she’d been saving up since her first babysitting job at thirteen. Investing was second nature to Makenzie; she was a financial genius. With well over six figures in her account, she wasn’t in a hurry to find a new job. With only a week left to Irish’s hospitality, she should start looking. He did say she could stay on and work for him… but now, after exposing both his son and ex-wife, would he feel the same?
Her cell phone vibrated from where she’d sat it in the drink holder. Picking it up, she glanced down at the text.
Unknown Caller: I know what you did. You’ll pay for this.
Makenzie: Who is this? What do you want?
She put the cell phone down when she heard the horn honking behind her. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw Irish on his bike. She couldn’t see his full facial features through the mask but didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes or the shaking of his head.
The heaviness that settled in her stomach wasn’t from the harassing text messages. No, it was from the look Irish was giving her. The very disappointed look. The Daddy look. The Little Girl you are in so much trouble, look.
She wasn’t his little girl though and he wasn’t her Daddy. Not yet anyway. Surely, she had nothing to fear. A sense of longing settled over her. She wanted to know how Irish would deal with her if she did belong to him. Would he be kind and understanding? A firm disciplinarian? A pushover? She giggled at the thought, no way was the giant on the motorcycle behind her a pushover.
As Makenzie pulled up to Irish's house, her heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that gnawed at her insides, wondering how Irish would react not only to what he witnessed on the road, but also to the morning's revelations of stolen money.
Stepping out of the car, she watched as Irish approached on his motorcycle, his expression still unreadable behind his helmet. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes narrowed, and his head shook ever so slightly, a silent reprimand that sent a shiver down her spine. She suddenly felt like a very naughty little girl.
Ignoring the unsettling text message that had flashed across her phone moments earlier, Makenzie pushed the thoughts aside as she followed Irish inside. The familiar scent of his house enveloped her, a comforting embrace amid the turmoil swirling within her mind. Clover ran ahead of them, as she always did, and a second later her bark filled the room. She definitely loved chasing the animals in the backyard and making sure everyone knew she was home.
Irish led the way into the living room, his posture rigid as he turned to face her, he motioned for her to sit, and she settled into the softness of his couch. His gaze bore into hers, a silent challenge that made her pulse quicken with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Mak,” he began, his voice low and commanding. “I owe you an apology for sending you away earlier. It wasn't fair of me to dismiss you like that. I was angry but not with you. I needed time to process the information.”
Makenzie's heart fluttered at his words, a surge of relief flooding through her. She hadn't realized how much his dismissal had hurt until he acknowledged it now.
“It's okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”
He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Thank you for your understanding. There might be times when things get heated, and I need to walk away to calm down to keep from saying something I’ll regret or to process through my feelings. I will always come back. Sometimes, like today, it won’t be about you at all. I wasn’t mad with you. There’s a punching bag in the garage, but I don’t have one at work, I probably should install one. I will never strike you, or anyone else, out of anger. But I know myself and I know sometimes I need a moment to calm down. I should have taken the time to let you know I wasn’t mad before I sent you away; that was wrong of me.”
“It’s really okay. I texted Kylie and she met me at Night on the other, she couldn't help but picture it. Irish's firm hand on her bare bottom as he spanked her until she learned her lesson. Being spanked by a man who cared deeply for her had been a fantasy of hers for as long as she could remembered.
“She’d taste Daddy’s belt. Because, putting her life in danger, would require much more than my hand on her bare ass. She’d wiggle and cry, begging me to stop. But I wouldn’t stop until I knew she’d learned her lesson. Not until her ass was hot to the touch and she’d be reminded of her punishment when she sat. I’d stop only when I was convinced that she’d never, ever, put my sweet girl in a harmful situation again.” Makenzie shivered at the thought and jumped when he brought the belt down against his palm. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, surprised at how aroused his words were making her.
“She’d be wet,” he continued. “Her body would betray her even though she’d be begging me to stop spanking her.” He ran the looped end of the belt up her calf, making goosebumps erupt on her skin. “Afterward, I’d put her in the corner with a punishment plug up her ass to think about her actions. Then, when it was all over, I’d remove the plug and cuddle her to my chest and let her know how much I love her, how proud I was of her taking her punishment like a good girl and reassure her the slate was now clean.”
“I- I’m sorry I asked.” Makenzie got up, pushed past Irish and ran into the guest bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and immediately burst into tears.